


Window Washing the Soul

by vaderina



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Injury Recovery, M/M, Recovery is Boring, Superhero cosplay, Window Washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderina/pseuds/vaderina
Summary: Percival is laid up in hospital and bored out of his mind as he recovers from being run over by a criminal with a vendetta. The highlight of his week is the guy who washes the windows dressed up as a superhero.





	Window Washing the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Filling a sudden gap on the Fantastic Beasts Calendar - it's amazing and everyone should definitely sign up for a week!

Recovery was a boring process. Percival was laid up in his hospital bed with a TV spewing meaningless crap while his aching body tried to piece itself together. Getting run over by a criminal with a vendetta was not fun. Seraphina had been by, as had some of the other detectives from the precinct but nobody every stayed for long. Partly it was Percival’s fault, he was irritable in his bored confinement and even though Queenie had left him a kindle to read with his one good hand, even reading had lost its charm three days in. His physiotherapy appointment was moved yet again and he was waiting for the hour he should have been sweating over something as simple as standing up. It did nothing to improve his mood.

Something outside the window caught his eyes. A pair of feet was dangling at the top edge of the window and Percival’s blood ran cold. He didn’t exactly fancy being traumatised by witnessing someone plunge to their death from a hospital window. However a shattered pelvis prevented him from doing much other than staring in morbid fascination as the feet occasionally kicked happily, scooted to the left and right. Occasionally they disappeared only to reappear. It was almost rhythmic, as though the owner of said feet was dancing. Which was a ridiculous concept because unless Percival had been in a coma for a decade or so and individual flight packs were invented then there was no way someone was dancing outside the windows of the 7th floor of a hospital.

The feet disappeared from view, something clanged against the window just out of his sight and there was a whirring noise. A suspended trolley began its slow descent to Percival’s window. The pair of feet extended to a set of rather shapely legs which was attached to a rather pert bottom, a tapered waist, shoulders that weren’t too broad and a masked head. Percival did not have the time or the energy to deal with masked robbers, he was done. Spiderman bent over to scratch a dog happily basking in the sunlight. What kind of idiot robs a hospital with their dog in tow? Percival scoffed at the idea and braced himself as he watched the masked figure reach into a bucket and pulled something out. A sponge. A sopping wet sponge which he used to attack the window with and leave a sudsy trail behind.

Percival almost laughed at his heart receded from his throat back to his chest. He should have realised sooner that the children’s ward was a floor above him and no doubt the guy who washed windows dressed up to entertain them. Spiderman cocked his head and waved at Percival tentatively. Despite his misgivings Percival waved back with his good hand. What followed was a moderately awkward miming game by the end of which Percival was laughing. He was almost sad when his window was sparkling clean and Spiderman began to put his things away to move to the next window. In that moment the dog that had been flat on its back got up, shook itself vigorously, slobber dripped down the window. Opposite him Spiderman stared, obviously aghast, hands on hips. He stood over the dog and was obviously speaking. Percival worried for a moment about whether they guy would exact retribution on his dog. In a way he did. The more he chided the dog the more the dog’s tail wagged, a wide doggy grin on its face, tongue lolling happily out of its mouth. When Spiderman pointed at the window the dog happily trotted over and licked said window. In the background Spiderman facepalmed and Percival found himself laughing.

There was no sign of Spiderman for the rest of the week but exactly a week later a pair of feet dangled outside Percival’s window yet again. This time they were clad in sturdy black boots. Much to Percival’s delight rather than Spiderman he was treated to the sight of Batman and Batdog washing his window. It cheered him up to no end, especially the part where he could see Batman’s green eyes. Their mime game continued though this time Batman came armed with a whiteboard and a pen. Percival wanted to kick himself and resolved to ask Seraphina to bring him a whiteboard when she next visited. Batman was coy and flirty.

“A true superhero never reveals his identity.” It was cheesy but the smile the split Percival’s face in half made it worth it. He waved off Batman when it was time to go, this time the window remained blissfully drool free as Batdog just barked at its owner. The two of them disappeared from view dancing, Batdog spinning and barking while Batman wiggled much like in the 60’s series. It made Percival wonder just what kind of things his superhero saviour from insanity liked to watch.

A week passed and Percival asked to rearrange his physiotherapy so it wouldn’t coincide with his mysterious window washer. It was the height of summer so Percival shouldn’t have been surprised by a pair of legs clad in tight leather. What took him off guard though was another set of painted green legs which looked very human. The four fuzzy paws looked unchanged though. As the trolley drifted into view Percival stared a little slack jawed. The Incredible Hulk and Hellboy were having a conversation outside his window. Hellboy had his back to him and Percival gave a silent thanks to their inventor as they left nicely muscled painted red arms free for him to admire. The Hulk was a bit broader, muscles more classically defined under the green paint. They both sported a shock of reddish auburn hair and when Hellboy turned The Hulk gave Percival a leer over his shoulder.

Their miming and antics were a little more muted, Hellboy obviously flustered by the presence of what Percival assumed to be his brother. The Hulk spent more time standing behind Hellboy making little heart fingers at Percival and cackling than actually washing windows. In turn Hellboy would flick water at his brother who danced away as the trolley rocked precariously. Still, the afternoon wasn’t wasted. When Hellboy wasn’t watching, fussing over his open jacket which revealed a very nice if rather alarming shade of red painted chest, The Hulk held up his whiteboard above his brother’s head. On it was an arrow pointing down at Hellboy with the label “Newt”. Percival blinked, not understanding. Perhaps they were about to start a new miming game. The Hulk rolled his eyes and scrubbed the whiteboard clean. His scribble this time was held over the dog “Niffler”.

“Breed?” Percival mouthed. The eye roll was lost as the whiteboard was thwacked into The Hulk’s forehead and left a skin coloured patch behind while the whiteboard took on a green sheen. It was wiped once more and this time The Hulk held the board about his own head with an arrow pointing to himself:

My name is Theseus.  
Brother Newt.  
Dog Niffler.

Understanding dawned on Percival. He hoped a little that Theseus would know sign language as he finger spelled his name in return. Theseus shook his head and poked Newt who looked up from where he was wringing out his sponge. Whatever Theseus had said made Newt look to Percival and his brother motioned for him to repeat his name.

The smile that creased Newt’s face up was breath taking. After a moment Newt’s hands flew into a flurry and Percival held his hand up to slow him down. He mimed that he only knew a little sign language which Newt seemed to get. The slow, measured signs he was shown were enough to make him smile it return.

“Bye Percival. See you next week.”

As far as week’s went, Percival really wanted the following one to pass quickly. Newt had rapidly become the highlight of his dreary weeks. So when it was time for his window to be washed, Percival adjusted excitedly in his bed and craned his neck to see when Newt would appear. It was almost hilarious, Niffler’s legs drifted into view with along with Newt’s feet in black sneakers and somewhat baggy brown trousers. By the time the green t-shirt and Niffler’s blue collar drifted into view Percival could barely conceal his excitement. Not that he was enamoured with Shaggy and Scooby Doo, it was the prospect of seeing Newt without any kind of mask or makeup in the way.

He was not disappointed. Newt looked radiant in Percival’s eyes. The sun caught him from the side and Percival was left breathless for a second, convinced that he was facing an angel who had descended to the mortal plane only to make sure Percival could follow him home. And that was such a stalkerish thought that Percival snapped out of his staring to see Newt coyly smile and sign him a sweet hello. However something was different to usual. While Newt still smiled and played, there was a rush to his motions as though he was keen to get going. Percival did his best not to take his haste personally and swallowed down the disappointment when Newt disappeared in half the time he usually took on Percival’s window.

His physiotherapy session later was more painful than he remembered it ever being and Percival was grateful to be wheeled back to his room after a day of what felt like failures. The TV held no interest for him so he resorted to listening to the goings on outside his room. A strange noise cut into his brooding. It was the sound of clacking claws on the tiles. Percival craned his neck to see what it could possibly be. A big black nose poked through the crack in his door followed by a hairy body in a “therapy assistant dog” harness. Niffler trotted up to his bed and pressed a cold nose against his good hand. Percival followed the leash up to a freckled hand, up an equally freckled arm to a neck and then a familiar face.

“Hello Percival. I’m Newt and this is Niffler.” Newt smiled warmly and Percival was powerless to do anything but grin back.

**Author's Note:**

> Still on tumblr - @ladyoftheshrimp


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